


more records than stars in the sky

by j7j



Category: Jupiter Ascending (2015)
Genre: Conversation, Established Relationship, F/M, Flirting, Fluff, Galactic Bureaucracy, Kissing, Public Display of Affection
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-17
Updated: 2016-12-17
Packaged: 2018-09-09 08:04:42
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,750
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8883142
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/j7j/pseuds/j7j
Summary: Proving yet again that technological advances do not always mean better, Jupiter and Caine stand in line to register their union.Galactic Bureaucracy: 1 | Our Heroes: 0





	

**Author's Note:**

  * For [kaberett](https://archiveofourown.org/users/kaberett/gifts).



> So... I ran into the hills with the bureaucracy prompt! It was such fun, making up names of the forms, and I adore their relationship too. It was a real treat to write Jupiter Ascending so I hope you enjoy!

"You know," Jupiter starts, as they're sent to the back of yet another line, "I used to dread going to the DMV to renew my license. But I think if I saw the lady behind the counter here, I would clean her toilet for free. I would grab her face and plant a big kiss and tell her she's won the lottery. _That's_ how much I miss her."

The hyperbole flies by Caine's head, but he gets her frustration and that's what matters. He squeezes her hand and gives her a lop-sided smile.

"We could always do something else," he offers.

"No, absolutely not," Jupiter squeezes 'till it's a vicegrip, but of course Caine, with his spliced genes, won't wince.

And so they lurch forward a couple spots in the line.

She thinks of how her parents got married. There were pictures of the event, certainly, and her mother had worn her nicest dress and her father had kept away from his studies for a whole day. And even though the Cold War was still going on, even though they were on opposite sides of a not-officially-existing conflict, they had still gone through the motions before having her.

But it's hell, waiting through these lines. And Caine, love of the life though he may be, is evidently capable of sniffing out the cracks in her facade. He turns slightly toward her and smiles, still somewhat sardonic.

"It really isn't necessary, you know," he prods, "This sort of thing."

It's impossible to cross your arms while holding hands; Jupiter settles for twining their fingers and giving a short huff.

"We've already wasted half the day," she reasons, "Might as well see this through to the end."

"Classic sunk cost fallacy," Caine snipes.

"Oh god," she rolls her eyes -- they're three spots away from the head of the line! -- "You're starting to sound like Vladie."

"Your cousin?" he raises an eyebrow and the air about him crackles, "The one that nearly sold you off?"

"It's fine," she waves her free hand, shrugging, "I know he didn't think it would be so dangerous and, well, I did get what I wanted in the end." And then, when Caine looks unconvinced that her life is worth a telescope, she sidles closer and adds: "Besides, if it weren't for him, we would've never met, so I can't hate him too much, you know?"

Caine looks at her with fond and warm eyes before shaking his head and snorting with affection: "You're a strange one."

Jupiter doesn't get the chance to retort (or better yet kiss him) as the moment is ruined by the receptionist at the front calling their number.

"Documents, please," the uniformed man drawls. His nameplate gives an alphanumeric designation. Jupiter fumbles for her paperwork as it's become quite jumbled through the previous lines. But it's all there and this is the correct station (or it had better be!) and she pastes on a smile and pretends the horned man with webbed fingers (a frog and goat splice, maybe? She'd have to ask Titus or Stinger... probably Stinger) is the short-tempered lady at the DMV.

"Form ETM-22 is out of order," the man reports. He licks his finger and flicks through the other sheets, "Ah, here it is. You've been to Civil Integration Bureau I see, those callarhods -- pardon my language -- still can't tell the difference between ETM and DoC, no matter how many times we remind them."

"Well, it's as my mother always says," Jupiter tries, doing her damndest to sympathize, "It takes an expert to right an amateur." Her should-have-been compliment fails to register and the bureaucrat gives her a blank look before they both turn to Caine for guidance.

"An Earthlingism," Caine explains, "Please proceed."

"I thought I was being understandable," Jupiter mumbles under her breath.

"Don't mind him," her soon-to-be (within hours, she hopes) husband answers, "They're the best at their job and not much good with anything else."

Jupiter stiffens as the man behind the counter perks his ears up at the comment. But he continues sorting through the papers and stamps, seemingly at random, a half-dozen documents before handing the packet back.

"All done," he reports, "Please proceed to the Commitment Room, down the hall and fourth to the left."

"Great! Fantastic!" the offer to tidy up his desk is threatening to spill from her lips until she sees the label affixed to the top of the binder.

_Seraphi Abrasax, HRH, and Caine Wise, DDLt._

For once, both she and Caine find offense with the designation.

"Excuse me," Jupiter tries, "But my name is Jupiter Jones."

"And I'm a lieutenant," Caine adds, "L-T."

The bureaucrat looks at the would-be-married party.

"If you would like to change either or both of your designations, please fill out forms," and here he grabs two copies of three forms and passes them over the counter, "PNC-12, PSC-41, and PODC-10. Then come back in this line and we'll update your records with pleasure."

Jupiter and Caine trade glances and then look back to the line. It's even longer than they remembered. And the forms are multi-part forms with need a higher level of intergalactic vocabulary than either of them are capable of and oh god, she'll have to ask Stinger or Kalique for help and she'll need to fake sick from work and...

"You know what, I'm okay," she turns to Caine. "What about you?"

Her bodyguard-slash-guarddog-slash-boyfriend-slash-fiance looks with distaste at the label. And then he looks at the forms and the line.

"Dishonorably discharged lieutenant it is," he grumbles.

And so they make their way to the Commitment Room. It looks more like an interrogation chamber, complete with the three chairs and table in an unfurnished room. Jupiter squints at the darkened left wall before seating herself down.

"It looks like a one-way mirror," she reports.

Caine chuckles at that, at least. "It's an electronic corpus," he explains, "Our records will be submitted there, along with additional biometric information."

"Woah," Jupiter breathes, leaning over to brush her fingers against the screen, "Sorry. I just... I forget how far ahead you guys are." She pauses, considering, before adding: "Kalique didn't say anything about all these forms!"

"Your daughter?" Caine asks, arching his eyebrow again.

"Ugh," Jupiter shudders, "That's never not going to creep me out. But anyways, yeah. She coached me through this process, but she made it seem like it would take minutes not hours. I thought as long as I was using the Abrasax name everything would be smooth!" What good was royalty, she wants to know, if it won't let you cut through red tape?

"I imagine it's been a couple millennia since she's had to come down to the Citizens' Bureau," Caine shrugs, "I'm sure things have changed."

"Change, sure!" Jupiter sighs, "But I thought things were supposed to get better, not worse!"

"We don't have to go through with this," he points out again, "Nothing's stopping us from walking out right now."

"Mm."

"I mean it."

It hurts. Not in the oomph sense, but in the pinprick and eventual onset of tears sense. Jupiter understands cold feet, even if she hasn't felt it yet. Or now. She's too busy trying to dig her fingers in and hold on.

"I don't get it," she mutters, looking at the absurdly-labelled -- practically insulting -- documents. "You make me out to be this completely desirable person -- "

"Because you're intergalactic royalty -- "

"And someone who can have anyone she wants -- "

"Because you can -- "

"But I've told you every time: I want _you_."

"And you can have me," Caine answers, "Whenever you want. I'll be by your side regardless. But I'm sure Stinger has told you -- "

"At length," Jupiter cuts in.

"Well he's right," Caine presses, "There are better matches. It's ridiculous, to marry for love."

"So what are you then?" Jupiter retorts, "Some kind of concubine I call on?"

"There would be no higher honor," Caine says with utter seriousness.

Jupiter sighs, pushing herself to her feet, and then goes over, helps herself into his lap, and grabs his face while straddling him.

"Caine," she murmurs, as their lips are almost touching, "I want this. I want _you_."

Caine closes his eyes and swallows. He's thinking of logical statements no doubt. But then she closes in and kisses him and there's this deep and needy and gutterally _plaintive_ whine that sends shivers racing through her, to know that they affect one another in equivocal measures.

"Come on," she urges, worrying at his lip, "Can't you try? For me?"

He kisses her back and she moans into his touch. He reaches up to clasp her shoulders; she tangles her fingers in his hair and her palms skirt the tip of his ears. She leans over him and he arches towards her.

"Caine," she gasps, "Caine, Caine, Caine -- "

"What?" he asks, sounding as weak and breathless as she feels.

"Caine, I want..." her head is buzzing and oh god, they are not doing this here, not when they're so close to being intergalactic-official, "I want you to call me by my name."

And this. This completely ordinary totally simple request, is what makes him freeze up and flush bright red.

"What?" he kind-of squeaks. Well, rasps. In a still very attractive way.

"Jupiter," she prompts, "C'mon try it."

"Your Majesty -- "

She kisses him again, lapping their tongues and pulling at his hair and he groans into her mouth and she pulls away and smiles, blood ablaze despite herself.

"Jupiter. Your wife."

"Jupiter," Caine relents.

And then the screen flashes to life and she throws herself against the table in an attempt to appear proper. Thankfully the face on the other side of the screen is another cloned splice with a designation rather than a name. He looks at their state of almost debauchery and doesn't even raise an eyebrow.

"Lady Abrasax, Dismissed in Disgrace Lieutenant Wise, I would like to congratulate you on your new union. Please sign your names on the bottom of page 14 and submit the paperwork into the screen." And with that, he's gone and the screen reverts to its initial black stage, save for a red arrow that points to a newly-visible slot.

Jupiter and Caine trade looks before breaking out in laughter.

And just like that, she thinks: it'll be okay. Even if we'll have to redo all of this paperwork, even if we have to waste a week to get it right, we will, together, and it'll be okay.


End file.
